


Not Your Son

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [8]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Jake Peralta, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Roger Peralta's A+ Parenting, holt is a Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: “Yeah, I got it. Thanks, dad. Bye.” Jake began to lower the phone, taking a breath in preparation to deal with Roger, when he felt something hit his back, sending him staggering into the windowsill frame in front of him.Jake wakes up to his dad, Roger Peralta, passed out on his couch. He calls Holt to let him know he won't be showing up to work today, and Roger makes his displeasure with Jake calling Holt 'dad' perfectly clear.Request fic!
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Roger Peralta, Ray Holt & Jake Peralta
Series: Foray into B99 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 36
Kudos: 1193





	Not Your Son

Jake was sitting at his dining table, nursing his third cup of coffee, bags under his eyes, as he surveyed the view in front of him. His father was passed out on his couch, still in his pilot’s uniform.

Great.

Jake made a mental note to change the locks to his apartment, as he checked his phone again. It was getting on in the day - he didn’t want to be late for work, again. Holt would probably go off the deep end. Okay, that was a lie, he’d probably just assign him to a boring case, which was arguably worse.

But Jake also didn’t trust Roger Peralta in his home unattended. He was considering sending a text to Amy to tell her that he was going to be late, but he knew that she disapproved of his father, and didn’t want to have to talk about how it made him feel later on.

Jake turned his phone over in his hands, then stood up, dialing Holt’s number. He could explain a family situation came up, ask for the day off. Then, when Roger woke up, he could make him leave - or try to, anyway. These sorts of things didn’t always go the way he planned them to. But he wasn’t going to just skip work because his dad rolled up.

Maybe a year ago he would have, but now… the rose-colored lenses had long since fallen off, and Jake could only see his father for what he was: just another deadbeat dad, who slept his way across the continent without a care.

Holt picked up the call on the third ring.

“Peralta.”

“Hey, Captain.” Jake wheedled, “It’s me. Jake.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“Yeah.” Jake swallowed, glancing back at his father before turning away from him, staring out the window to the lovely view of the alleyway. “I can’t come in for work today. A…” Jake hesitated, “Family thing came up.”

“I see.” Holt’s voice was monotone, “Is Karen in good health?”

“My mom?” Jake frowned, “No, no, she’s fine. My, um, well,” Jake grimaced, “Roger’s in town. Sorta crashed at my place. I don’t want to… um…” Jake trailed off, not sure what he would even say.

Holt seemed to understand.

“Of course, Peralta. You can have the day off. However, I would request that you… send me a textual message on the situation as it develops.”

“Sure, yeah, got it.” Jake nodded, hearing a rustling behind him. Roger must have woken up. Jake felt his heart rate pick up, that little bit of adrenaline punching in in preparation for whatever shit he was undoubtedly going to throw into Jake’s life this time.

Holt started to say something, but Jake cut him off.

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks, dad. Bye.” Jake began to lower the phone, taking a breath in preparation to deal with Roger, when he felt something hit his back, sending him staggering into the windowsill frame in front of him.

He let out a grunt of pain, phone clattering to the ground.

Jake swiveled on the spot, bringing his hands up defensively. His gun was on the table, but he didn’t know how a perp managed to sneak up on-

Oh.

Jake felt his hands drop to his sides in a sort of muted shock.

Roger was glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. Probably still drunk off his ass.

Dad, what the hell?” Jake asked angrily, “I’m a cop. I thought you were a perp. Don’t fuck around-”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Jacob.” Roger growled, poking Jake in the chest with a finger, hard. “Who was that on the phone?”

“It was just my Captain! I let him know I was going to miss work today, since _you’re_ here.” Jake couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his tone. His dad was way too much in his face, and Jake tried to move past him, put some space between them.

Roger stepped in front, blocking Jake off.

“Oh, really? Are you sure you weren’t calling your _dad_?”

Jake blinked. Then his eyes widened with understanding. “Oh, no, it’s not like that.” A grin started to form, “Holt’s like a mentor, I-”

Roger’s hand came up, slapping across Jake’s face. His head turned, and, after half a second, the pain erupted across the side of his face.

Jake’s head snapped back to face his dad, raising his hands placatingly. “Dad, look-”

“Don’t you _dad_ me!” Roger spat, face quickly going red. “You think that you can just kick me out of your life without a second thought? You think you can replace me?”

He grabbed Jake’s wrist with one hand, pulling it. Jake stumbled forward, bringing up his free hand to break the grip.

“Dad, stop it. You’re drunk.” Jake tried to reason, “Go back to bed, we can talk about it later, okay?”

In response, Roger only turned, pulling Jake behind him, short nails digging into Jake’s arm.

“Ow!” Jake pulled on his arm, “Let go!”

He could just punch his dad and knock him out - but he was drunk. It wasn’t like he _meant_ to do any of this. Besides, his dad would just be even angrier when he woke up after Jake punched him - probably use it as an excuse to keep him in Jake’s life out of guilt or something.

But then Roger had stopped moving, and let go of Jake’s arm. He pulled it back into himself, glancing down at it, appraising the damage. Semi-circles were gouged into the skin, but none of them had drawn blood.

Fuck - he was relieved because there was no blood? He had to de-escalate this before it got…

Jake felt his heart skip a beat, adrenaline spiking back up. They had stopped right in front of the dining room table, and his badge and gun were…

He looked up, and saw Roger pointing it at him. This situation had just escalated beyond drunkenness to an actual danger.

Jake’s automatically raised both arms up, schooling his face into a blank expression. “Dad, put the gun down, okay? We can talk-”

“Shut up!” Roger shouted, hands shaking, “I’m your dad! Me!” He pointed at his own chest, jabbing the gun at Jake. “But you think some, some rando is going to replace me? I won’t let that happen!”

Jake’s eyebrow twitched, but he aborted the motion, wanting to keep his face neutral. Thankfully, Roger didn’t seem to notice, too busy rambling to himself under his breath.

Jake found his eyes scanning the room, checking for the escape routes he had made note of when he’d first moved in. The window to the alley, with the fire escape. If he could get into the bathroom, he could lock the door and buy time to climb out of that window, or maybe enough time to get Roger to calm down.

Until an opportunity came up, though, Jake was stuck. Unless he could de-escalate the situation.

“You’re my dad, dad. You always will be.” Jake said carefully, making his voice bright, “I only called Holt so that we could spend the day together - you know, father and son bonding time! I’d rather be here with you than at the office pushing paperwork for the Captain any day.”

Roger lowered the gun slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Jake forced a grin onto his face. It was a fake, empty pantomime of his normal smile, but it worked.

Roger lowered the gun further, wide smile spreading across his own face. Then he brought the gun up, scratching at the side of his face with it.

Jake took an aborted step forward, panic flashing across his eyes. Roger saw the motion, but smiled further.

“You want a hug? That’s so sweet, Jacob.”

Jake made to nod, but Roger kept talking, gun still moving around haphazardly.

“I never see you, Jacob. I’m always so busy flying - you know how hard it is being a pilot? So much traveling, I always need to be up and about, it causes so much stress, I had to do _something_ about it, but they wouldn’t understand…”

“Dad,” Jake felt his smile twitch, “What did you do?”

“I took a teeny tiny bit of Modanfinil - just so I could stay awake! You know how it is, flying for so long at a time. But I failed a stupid test and now I’m on leave - _on leave_ , can you believe that?” Roger was progressively getting louder, and the gun was still being held tightly in his hand, but no longer pointed at either of them.

Jake glanced at it, then kept his eyes on Roger. “Mm, yeah, that’s not fair. They shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s where you come in.” Roger waved the gun aimlessly at Jake, before dropping it back towards his side, “You can get them to lift my suspension. You’re a cop.”

“I can try.” Jake said carefully, “Why don’t you put down the gun, and I’ll fix it, yeah?”

“Right, right.” Roger nodded, but his grip didn’t loosen. “You call them, I’ll wait.”

Jake turned around and walked to the window, where his phone lay, screen cracked, on the floor. Unfortunately, the window was closed - there was no way he could open it without Roger losing it.

He clicked his, thankfully still-working phone, and realized that the call button was still on.

He’d never hung up his call with Holt - and apparently Holt hadn’t ended it, either.

Jake typed out a hasty message, _“Send backup to my apartment”_ , and sent it to Holt, before getting up.

“Got it. Just gotta… call your boss.” Jake held up his phone, “Do you have their number?”

“Yeah, yeah, let me get it.” Roger put the gun down onto the table, walking back to the couch to dig through his jacket pockets for his own phone.

Jake quickly grabbed the gun while Roger’s back was turned, getting around the other side of the table to create some distance, before levelling it at his dad.

“I can’t find it! Must’ve left it at the bar…” Roger turned around, trailing off when he saw Jake.

“Son, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Put that down, you could hurt someone!”

“Put your hands up, dad. I’m arresting you for assaulting a police officer.”

“You can’t do that, I’m your father!” Roger spat, before his eyes narrowed. He stood up to his full height, rage coloring his features. “Oh, I see what this is. You _are_ replacing me. You think that your boss is going to be half as good as I was to you? I made you, boy! I was _always_ there for you! And now some fucking fa-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Jake warned, voice going cold.

“What? Insult him? You know what he is - the only way he’ll see you is as a good fuck, we both know that-”

“Da-” Jake cut himself off, voice going hard. “Roger Peralta. Put your hands above your head, now. NYPD.”

Roger was sputtering angrily about disrespect, but Jake just kept his gun level. Tried not to think about the fact he was currently pointing it at his own father. His own father, who had pointed a gun in his face. And shoved him into a wall. And slapped him. And gouged his arm.

After a moment, Roger put his hands up limply. “This isn’t right. Sons don’t treat their fathers like this-”

The door smashed open, Sergeant Terry Jeffords burst in, gun drawn, followed closely behind by none other than Captain Raymond Holt.

Jake grinned at the sight of them, then turned to face Roger, smile slipping away. “You’re my father, but I’m not your son. You’re not part of my life, Roger.” Jake said, “And you never will be.”

Terry glanced at Jake, then did a double take, concern clouding his features, before cuffing Roger and reading him his rights.

Jake felt a pressure on his arm, pushing downwards gently.

He blinked. Glanced at his arms, and realized he was still holding his gun raised, ready to fire. Roger and Terry were gone.

Jake lowered it, letting out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

“Peralta.” Holt was in front of him, “Are you injured? We were concluding our conversation when I heard a collision.”

“Oh, right, that.” Jake reached up with one hand, poking at his shoulder. It stung a bit, but nothing seemed wrong with it. “‘m fine. Just bruised.”

He looked up to see Holt’s dismayed expression. “Your shoulder was impacted?”

“Uh, yeah, but, I mean, it’s fine, so… I can still push paperwork, heh.” Jake tried for a grin, but Holt still looked… well, upset, frankly.

“And your face?”

“Oh, um,” Jake had forgotten about that. His hand reached up to feel the side of his face. It felt tender, and slightly hot to the touch. Probably going to bruise, too. His jaw hurt a little. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Seriously.”

Holt placed his hand on his non-injured shoulder. “Jake,” He said somberly, “I am sorry this occurred. I feel partly responsible, for having indulged your father-figure idolization of me. I apologize for that.”

“What?” Jake leaned back, surprised and more than a little dismayed. “No, no, this isn’t your fault! I look up to you - like seriously, a lot or whatever.”

Holt was still just looking at him, and Jake felt the need to explain. To make it so the Captain would understand.

“Look, I… I’m happy that I get to see you as my dad. Captain. Dad.”

“I see.” Holt nodded slowly, “Son.”

Jake grinned so wide his jaw hurt, swiping his badge up from the table. “So, back to the precinct? Gonna give me a cool case?”

“No. You are taking the day off.”

“Man, you’re the worst dad ever.” Jake pouted, throwing himself dramatically onto the now-empty couch.

The corner of Holt’s mouth twitched towards a smile.

“Yes, I am aware.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you anon for your request! I enjoyed writing this prompt :D
> 
> I take requests for fics from various fandoms on my tumblr (same username)
> 
> If you liked this fic, please leave a comment! I thrive on them <3
> 
>  _Total Request:_ i've literally just discovered your ao3 and your Brooklyn nine nine fics are amazing! especially elevator talk. you said you take requests and it got me thinking about jake accidentally calling holt dad in front of Roger. it's just an idea more than a request but i feel like you could write it really well if you wanted to!


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